


Makes Me Sick

by writerchick0214



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerchick0214/pseuds/writerchick0214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lost moment between the brothers after Rocco's death. Connor has never been able to stand seeing Murphy in pain. Twincest Connor/Murphy. One-shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makes Me Sick

Makes Me Sick

The three MacManus men sat in silence for what felt like hours, the click of a lighter and the inhale of nicotine the only sounds to be heard in the small motel room. Connor watched Murphy as he bit at the skin around his thumbnail, a nervous habit he had picked up when they were children. Murphy was still covered in blood, eyes red and puffy and he nursed his left hand close to his body, the wrist now black and blue. Connor mentally cringed remembering the sound Murphy’s wrist had made when it broke against Connor’s boot. The second the bone snapped Connor swore he had felt it, too. Suddenly Murphy was looking at him, identical blue gazes meeting, and Connor wished their Da wasn’t there. Murphy would never show an ounce of weakness in front of anyone except Connor but his darker half had always been the more emotional of the two, always felt things twice as much as anyone else. Right now Connor could see Murphy struggling to remain calm and he was unsure if it was anger or sadness boiling inside his brother. Connor wanted nothing more than to reach out to Murphy, to run his fingers over his lips, through his hair; Connor wanted to touch every inch of Murphy that he possibly could.

“‘M goin’ out fer a bit, boys.” Noah stood and lit a cigar, leaving without so much as a goodbye or an explanation, door closing behind him with a soft click. 

Connor stood and walked wordlessly to the bathroom intent on washing Murphy of the blood caking on his skin. Finding a thin, threadbare washcloth next to the stained sink he soaked it with the cold water, staring at himself in the mirror for a moment. He had wiped away the majority of grime from his face on the way to the motel but there were faint hints of bruising slowly forming around his cheekbone and eye but his beating wasn’t anywhere near as severe as the one Murphy had received. It seemed to always happen that way, Murphy getting the worst of it, and Connor thought that perhaps it was due to Murphy’s big mouth and wild nature; it was always getting him in trouble. With a long sign Connor left the bathroom just in time to see Murphy kick over the bedside table sending the lamp flying to the thin carpet with a loud clank.

“Fuck!” It was the first word Murphy had said since they arrived at the motel. He sat on the bed, hair wet with sweat and disheveled, body shaking with suppressed emotion and he flicked his lit cigarette across the room in an overly-exasperated movement. Murphy’s impossibly expressive eyes locked with his again and Connor dropped to his knees before his brother placing his hands on Murphy’s knees, washcloth all but forgotten on the floor.

“Murphy, talk ta me.” Connor dug his fingers into Murphy’s thighs hard enough to bruise. It wasn’t often the two couldn’t communicate, with words or otherwise. 

“Wha’ tha fuck was I thinkin’, Connor?” Murphy asked in a broken voice that Connor hadn’t heard since Murphy would sneak into his bed as a child, frightened from a nightmare. “Rocco-” 

“-Wasn’ yer fault, Murph,” Connor interrupted. “He came along ‘cause he wanted to, ‘cause he believed in wha’ we were doin’.” 

“Fuck.” Murphy repeated, trailing the pads of his fingers over the letters of the “VERITAS” tattoo along Connor’s finger. 

“C’mon, Murph, let me clean ye up a bit.” Connor pulled himself up to sit on the bed, gripping Murphy’s chin gently in his hand so he could turn his twin’s head to face him. 

Connor cradled Murphy’s head in his right hand while he carefully wiped Murphy’s face with his left, the dark blood staining the washcloth making him sick to his stomach. Even though their mother had never told them which was the older brother Connor always had a sneaking suspicion that he was the eldest and as such had assumed the role as protector. He brushed a knuckle lovingly over Murphy’s beauty mark, remembering all the times Murphy had gotten hurt and all the times Connor had been there to put him back together again. He didn’t blink an eye as he shot a man through the back of the head, didn’t care when he was being cuffed to a toilet awaiting certain death, but for as long as he could remember it made him physically ill to see Murphy in pain. As he swiped at a particularly nasty gash above Murphy’s eyebrow the other winced and Connor stilled his actions. Murphy’s hand shot out and clutched the back of Connor’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that was all clacking teeth and smooth tongue but despite the sloppiness Connor couldn’t help but think it was perfect. 

“Connor.” Murphy’s voice was breathy and desperate and drove Connor completely crazy. Connor surged forward, pushing Murphy onto his back so he could straddle his younger twin’s hips. He crushed their lips together again tugging at Murphy’s tight black turtle neck desperate to feel the other man’s skin. Murphy was breathing heavily under him, chest heaving and he was gasping Connor’s name over and over again as he arched his back under Connor’s ministrations. Finally they were both shirtless, bare chests pushed together and Connor trailed his lips down Murphy’s jaw to harshly bite where neck met shoulder. Murphy’s moaned loudly and pulled Connor’s hair hard enough to hurt but it just drove Connor even more frantic with need. 

“Fuck, Murph.” Connor breathed into Murphy’s ear, running a hand down to cup the growing hardness in Murphy’s pants. Murphy groaned and his hips hitched up, raking his short nails down Connor’s back. Normally Connor would take his time with Murphy, kiss and lick and touch every inch of Murphy’s skin until the other was flushed and twitching under his hands, begging Connor to do something, anything. But right now time was limited, they had no idea when their Da would be back and Connor wasn’t sure he could take his time even if he wanted. So he ground down against Murphy reveling in the sounds he was making and kissed his dark-haired brother until he couldn’t breathe. He felt like they were teenagers again, rutting against one another in their shared room with their mother just down the hall, house so quite their stifled moans echoed ominously in darkness. 

“Conn-fuck…‘m close.” Murphy tilted his head back, pushing his hips up into Connor’s even harder. Connor tweaked one of Murphy’s nipples the same time he bit down on his neck the same spot he had before and Murphy was coming undone, yelling Connor’s name so loud he was sure the people the next room over had heard. Connor followed soon after, one hand gripping Murphy’s hip and the other pulling Murphy into a searing kiss. They lay like that for a long moment, lips mere inches apart as they breathed into each other, eyes closed, foreheads touching. Connor ran his nose along Murphy’s jaw, kissing the skin as he went. 

“I love ye, Connor.” 

“Jesus.” Connor let out a shuddering breath. “Love ye, too Murph.”

“Lord’s fuckin’ name.” Murphy chuckled softly, cuffing Connor on the back of the head.

And just like that Connor knew that they would be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> Mega thanks to my amazing BETA, Xtreme619! She likes TWD and BDS so I’m crazy lucky to have her.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the boys, though I wish I did! Troy Duffy owns all rights (the lucky bastard).
> 
> I'm also on ff.net but thanks to them deleting a ton of stories I'm trying to transition away. Thankfully my invite to this site came when it did!


End file.
